We All Fall Down
by Taiven
Summary: Sam is forced to play a game of life and death when his brother is captured by a psychopathic killer.
1. Ring

**Summary:** Sam is forced to play a game of life and death when his brother is captured by a psychopathic killer.

**Timeline: **First season, before the episode "Shadow".

**Rating: **M

**Warning: **Torture, violence, and bad language.

**A/N****: **So I wrote this story on my darker days and after I read a book about _The Joker__, _who can be pretty freakin' creepy. Taking that for what it's worth, hopefully you'll enjoy!

* * *

**WE ALL FALL DOWN**

/

_Ring around the rosy_

_A pocketful of posies_

_"Ashes, Ashes"_

_We all fall down!_

\

Chapter One

Ring

"Did you know," he hummed. "That the nursery rhyme 'Ring Around the Rosy' goes as far back as the plague years?"

He snickered at this, or maybe the further information he held in his deranged mind was what pleased him.

"You see, in those years, victims of the plague were burned. The townspeople believed they could stop the disease from spreading by piling the dead and the dying into large heaps and setting them on fire. Children would dance around the bodies and their ashes, singing that song…" He tilted his head to one side as a smile crept to his lips. "It's always been my favourite nursery rhyme."

"You're sick," snarled Dean. "You're a psychopath."

"Now Dean, that isn't very nice," the man scolded, humor playing along his words as he suddenly tightened the thumb screws.

Dean screamed, unable to control the horrible sounds pouring from his throat. Every time the man stopped his torture he believed he would be able to remain silent the next time, but each measure took him by surprise. Memory was not reliable, for every manipulation seemed more painful and horrid than he recalled from the last.

"I am far from a psychopath." The man paused for a moment as if rethinking his reply, appearing unaware of Dean's agony or simply uncaring. "Yet I was never very good at admitting my faults." A large smile spread across his face, his lips peeling slowly back to reveal two sets of perfectly white teeth. "Or so my psychiatrist told me before I murdered her in her sleep."

Dean lacked a smart ass remark as the sharp pain in his fingers declined to a deep throbbing, the metal device easing slightly, broken bone shifting into unnatural position. That smile, those teeth, reminding him of skeletons; all those graves he had dug up; the remains he had torched; memories of decay, rot, and death. He could feel his stomach churning, threatening to release its contents at any moment, but he fought it back, determined to survive this with his dignity intact.

"Sam doesn't want to deal with me," the crazed man continued, talking more to himself than to Dean. "_You_ say he'll never come. He'll never play my little _game_. Let's see what happens when I send him the messages of his big brother writhing and twisting, begging, screaming, pleading-"

"I haven't begged yet," Dean hissed between gritted teeth, his voice almost betraying him with a slight tremor.

But it wasn't the pain that caused his words to quaver, nor was it the bile rising in his throat. It was the look on Sam's face, the one he could imagine as he realized Dean had messed up. Dean had messed up _big_ time.

_I'm a fucking moron. I screwed up and now Sam has to pay. He always has to pay… _

The insults were hurdling through Dean's head, each one directed towards himself, but he didn't allow the frustration to be heard in his voice. "I haven't begged yet," he repeated instead, this time barely a whisper.

"Oh but you will. This is only the beginning, Deano my boy." The man leaned in closer, breath tinged with mint, reminding Dean of those candies Sam had always loved as a kid; the mints he had begged Dean to buy every time they found themselves in a store that sold them. Smelling the familiar flavor on the man's breath - hell, _connecting_ Sam with this son of a bitch - was enough to stop the memories. Enough to cause the fury in Dean to swell ten fold.

The anger was what kept him going, kept him strong. He needed it, because the man's breath kept coming - wafting into his face as he was forced to listen to the words spilling from the madman's mouth - and he couldn't stand it for much longer.

"At first you'll try to stay strong. You'll scream but you won't plead."

Dean could feel the cold metal of the device on his hand begin to constrict once more but his eyes were transfixed on the man before him; dark scraggly hair hanging limply on either side of a round face, pasty skin, blue eyes shining bright, almost unnaturally.

"_Go to hell,_" Dean growled, but his words were ignored.

"You'll slowly break down," the man continued without interruption, his ocean rimmed eyes piercing into the clouded hazel of Dean's own. "And _then_ you will beg. You will beg for mercy, for your life, and then finally… for death." He licked his lips as if they were honey rimmed before adding, "And I will give neither to you."

\\\

Sam Winchester glanced nervously at his watch and then at the clock across the diner. They both read 9:48pm. As he unconsciously nibbled his fingernails his foot began to rapidly tap the dirty tiles beneath the table. He glanced down at his watch again.

"Can I get you another cup of coffee?" Sam looked up at the young waitress who had stopped at his table, and, upon finding her as a distraction to his current concern, declined with a curt 'no' before returning his eyes to the diner's front entrance. He didn't notice the thwarted look that suddenly gripped the young girl as she left to attend to another customer, but even if he had, he may not have cared. His mind was too preoccupied to trouble him with missed manners.

9:50pm. Dean was still nowhere in sight. He was twenty minutes late.

The storm outside was intensifying and the low rumble of thunder could be heard approaching, louder each time it reached his ears. Rain streamed in rivulets down the diner's large windows, distorting the image of the street outside and the few people who ran by, newspapers held ineffectively above their heads. But Dean had still not returned.

Sam had been reluctant to allow Dean to go to the motel alone, but his brother had insisted. He had claimed it wasn't safe for Sam and that he should wait for him somewhere far away. Somewhere the madman would never look, lost amongst the mass of buildings that created the tangled mess that was New York City.

Eight more minutes passed as Sam anxiously waited, his fidgeting quickly turning to nervous agitation. It was feasible that Dean's lack of punctuality was caused by the storm and the heavily falling rain, but something within Sam stopped him from completely believing the possibility could be true. The motel was not that far away, and his brother knew full well of the urgency of the situation. Half an hour seemed more than a reasonable amount of time for him to drive back, grab their stuff, and then return.

_Then where is he?_

A crack of thunder crashed and a blaze of lightning appeared in the sky, flooding the street with a brief radiance. At that precise moment, Sam sprung up from his seat, unwilling to wait any longer, and dumped a handful of coins on the table. Without noticing he had overpaid, he stepped out of the small diner and into the rain, his brown jacket almost immediately soaking through to his striped shirt beneath. Looking to his right and down the flooding street, Sam stuffed his hands deep into his pockets and began to make his way down the cracked sidewalk, leaving the warmth of the diner behind but gaining a small amount of comfort as he headed toward the motel.

Less then ten minutes later, Sam had reached the deteriorating building. The Impala stood in the parking lot, the rain streaming down its hood and windows, making it almost impossible to straighten out the images within. He was shivering, completely drenched, as he tried the driver's door and found it unlocked. He quickly glanced in but was disappointed to find no sign of his brother. The interior of the 1967 Chevy Impala was empty of any evidence that hinted to his whereabouts.

His attention then turned to the stringy, metal stairs a few feet away, leading to the motel's second level. The rain pounded his back as he had difficulty climbing the rusting steps, concern still encasing his mind and his long limbs shaking badly from the cold and the unquenchable panic that had taken seed in his stomach. When he reached the door to their room he found it slightly ajar, the open entrance reason for his pulse to quicken as he pushed it inwards to reveal the grimy room.

The space was flooded in darkness and Sam reached a hand in to flick the light switch. As an eerie glow filled the area, Sam was disappointed to find it vacant, no sign of his brother having entered it recently besides the open door. It remained exactly the way they had left it that morning. Nothing had been touched or packed.

A ringing tore through the constant sound of pattering rain and Sam immediately whipped his head in its direction. Dean's cell phone lay on the night table between the two beds across the room. Sam hesitated for a moment, but then quickly strode over and swiped the phone from its place. Flipping it open almost simultaneously, he held it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"There are thirteen payphones in this neighbourhood, Sammy," a man's voice answered from the other line. Sam recognized it immediately, a mixture of emotions flooding through him at once. "In one there is a special phonebook. On the one hundred and thirteenth page there is a phone number written in red. Call it."

"What the hell do you want?" Sam said the words as if spitting out poison. "How did you get this number?"

"I have my sources, Sammy." A low chuckle sounded through the speaker. "You have fifteen minutes."

The younger Winchester hesitated for a moment before asking the question of which the possible answer caused his breathing to stop and his hands to tremble from something other than the cold. "Where's my brother?"

_Click_.

* * *

**To Be Continued.**


	2. Around

**WE ALL FALL DOWN**

/

_Ring around the rosy_

_A pocketful of posies  
_

_"Ashes, Ashes"_

_We all fall down!_

\

Chapter Two

Around

Dean was silent as he watched the man pace the full length of the room. Raef appeared giddy with excitement; his long, thin legs striding back and forth as he mumbled words beneath his breath, reaching back to pat himself on his shoulder every so often. Dean's eyes followed the man's movements out of wary habit, but his mind was barely focused on him.

Inside he was screaming at himself. Yelling for an idea; some hint of a concrete plan that could free him of this situation and somehow give him the upper hand. And when he had the advantage, when this son of a bitch was on the ground _begging _for his life, he would make sure he never came near Sammy again. _Never_.

The only problem was, no such plan had presented itself to him yet, and he was beginning to wonder if it ever would. The chair he was tied to was bolted to the ground, unable to wobble even the slightest amount. His arms were stiff against the armrests, hands crumpled before him. He knew several of his fingers were broken and was disdainfully glad that they had turned numb from the cold, the piercing pain dulled to a manageable degree.

The large room he was situated in appeared to be underground, and Dean was absolutely freezing in just a T-shirt and a pair of torn jeans. His jaw was clenched in order to stop his teeth from chattering as he glared at the madman wearing a path in the concrete floor. Dean had known something was amiss with Raef practically the very moment he had entered the diner, the man strolling in with a newspaper tucked under his left arm. He would never have thought this strange if he had not seated himself at the table beside them before beginning to casually glance through the obituaries. Dean found himself keeping a wary eye on the stranger throughout his entire breakfast.

Meanwhile, his brother was focused on the computer screen in front of him, completely oblivious to the fact that the man only ordered a tall glass of milk which he raised to his lips on several occasions but never actually took a sip from. Or the fact that he began to chuckle quietly to himself, reading about the recently deceased as if he was reading the silly pages.

Overall, he had been right to mistrust the man from the very start. If only he had acted sooner…

"Time is running out," Raef stated as he stopped his pacing, tearing Dean from his reminiscing. "Maybe my task was too difficult. Maybe Sam doesn't care whether his brother lives or dies."

"Maybe you're a lunatic who belongs in a mental institution," Dean said, refusing to miss an opportunity to add in his own opinion. "Maybe I'm going to spare you that fate by killing you. _Maybe_ I'm gonna gut you like a fish and then-"

"A fish?" Raef focused his eyes on Dean. "You're comparing me to a fish? That's a silly comparison."

"You're right. You're more like dirt. So maybe I'll stomp on you until you're nothing but a sack of skin and-"

"_Violence_, is that all you can think of?"

Dean's answer was a harsh laugh. "Don't go all 'violence doesn't solve anything' on me now. You're not exactly the Dalai Lama. I mean, come on, you seem to get a kick out of torturing me, don't you?"

"It is quite… amusing." Raef smiled slightly. "But I don't torture you for the fun of it you know."

"Really?" Dean was having a difficult time keeping his voice from rising with fury. The cold made his throat raw but talking was the only way to distract Raef and give Sam some extra time; time to play Raef's sick game and buy Dean a few moments to figure out a plan to escape. "What's your deal then?" he asked suddenly, genuine curiosity in his voice. "I mean, if killing and torturing people _doesn't _get you off."

The man was now leaning against the cement wall to Dean's right. "Let's just say I find it fascinating how everyone fears death."

"I can see you have some healthy interests there," commented Dean as he tried to figure out how deeply troubled this man really was. "Not at _all_ disturbing."

Raef smiled again. "But it truly is fascinating, Dean. People are frightened of so many different things, but fear of death is shared by all, even if some will never admit it. It seems it is programmed into human beings from the very beginning, when they are still in their mother's womb."

"That include you, _Raef_?" Dean asked, spitting out the madman's name in disgust.

He chuckled. "Of course not. I am a _unique _exception."

"Of _course _you are," Dean mumbled to himself, rolling his eyes even as a shiver coursed through his body.

"Truly, Dean, you must stop with the sarcasm." Raef looked faintly agitated. "It's not a very attractive quality of yours."

"Yah, well, what can I say? What I lack in charisma I certainly make up for with good looks."

Raef simply shook his head and chuckled again. A silence grew between the two as Dean began to feel the pain in his fingers grow sharper. Glancing down to see dark bruises spreading across the broken digits, he didn't know what else to say, for even hearing Raef's voice made him sick. His fingers were throbbing now, exceeding the point where he could keep the look of agony off his face for long, and as he looked up he could see the grin plastered on Raef's face.

"You shouldn't be afraid, Dean," he said in a horrible soothing voice. "But you are."

\\\

"_Damn it!_"

Sam shut the phonebook, neglecting to place it back in its slot before tearing out of the phone booth and sliding into the Impala, rainwater drenching the seat. He knew Dean would kill him for transforming the interior of his car into a personal swimming pool, but right now he was trying desperately to stop his brother from being killed himself. He didn't know much about Raef, or if he even knew where Dean was, but the pit in his stomach encouraged him to follow this twisted game and find the phonebook he had been ordered to seek.

Raef had told him that there were seventeen payphones in this neighbourhood, but there were so many streets and alleyways and buildings that Sam had lost his way. He no longer knew in which direction the motel was, or the diner where he had last seen his brother. He was hopelessly confused. He had already pulled up beside four phone booths and searched two buildings for payphones, but none of them were the one he was searching for. It seemed as if he was driving around blindly, frantically searching for the other ones he had not yet spotted.

The one way roads formed a maze that seemed to bring him around in circles, coming across the same areas over and over again. Around and around and _around_. The rain flooding down the Impala's windshield did not make things any easier. He had less than five minutes left.

Suddenly he noticed a phone booth he had not yet discovered, almost hidden next to a convenience store that stood beside an abandoned theatre. He had almost missed it as he had driven by, but now he turned the steering wheel, squeezing the Impala into a parallel parking spot, the tires squealing to a halt as he instantly shoved open the door and ran to the phone booth. Once inside, he barely stopped himself from punching his fist through the glass as he discerned there was no phonebook to be found within the small space. He pushed the palms of his hands into his forehead as he squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head, a scream of frustration building in his throat.

He knew there was barely enough time to find another payphone in this godforsaken neighbourhood. What would happen if he failed? Where was his brother?

A flash of yellow caught his attention when he opened his eyes again and raised his head. Looking down once more, his eyes widened as he saw a soggy phonebook lying on the floor. He immediately reached down and cradled it with one arm as he flipped through the pages, the thin papers frequently sticking together and causing a steady stream of curse words to flow from his mouth. As he came across the hundred and thirteenth page he saw what he had been searching for all this time. A number scribbled in red pen was scrawled across the bottom of the page, and Sam wasted no time in dialling it. His fingers were shaking so badly that he could barely focus on the numbers, having to redial twice before the line finally began to ring.

He waited, barely breathing, as several rings passed by but there was still no answer. However, just as he was about to hang up the phone there was a small click and then a familiar voice.

"Sam, listen to me. Don't do what he says. Just get out of town and-"

"Dean?" Sam placed a hand on the phone booth's glass wall to steady himself as he heard his brother's urgent voice on the other end of the telephone. "Dean, are you okay? Where are you?"

He waited for a response but the one that came was not the one he wanted. "I think that's enough of that," Raef said, his voice sounding slightly mechanical over the phone. "Dean really is a chatterbox, isn't he? It takes quite a lot to get him to stop talking."

Sam's stomach twisted as he caught the meaning of Raef's words, anger bubbling in his veins. "I swear to God, if you've hurt him, I'll-"

"Don't worry, Sammy! I treat all my guests with care. Your brother is fine, though I don't think he'll be playing the piano anytime soon."

"Let me talk to him," demanded Sam. "I want to talk to my brother."

"We'll attend to that matter afterwards. For now, however, I have a question for you, Sammy. A riddle."

He could not decline, and even though Sam barely stopped the foul words that threatened to pour from his mouth again, he waited breathlessly as Raef asked his question.

"I'm in a generous mood today, so you're in luck my boy! I'll give you an easy one. What goes on four legs in the morning, on two legs at noon, and on three legs in the evening?" Giggling erupted from the phone as Raef struggled to control his excitement. "Quick, quick, Sammy! Only a few seconds to answer!"

A warm current of fear flowed through the young Winchester as he stood in the booth, his clothes dripping, his long dark hair matted to his forehead, and the phone pressed hard against his ear. The cold that crept along his skin from the rain now seemed to seep straight through to his heart, clutching it in a solid, frozen grasp that stopped it for a moment as Sam raked his mind for an answer. The voice of the man on the other end could be heard imitating a clock, quickening his pace as time rapidly ran out. Sam's throat threatened to close.

And then suddenly it came to him. Mythology class, more than a year ago, a small discussion that had sparked a conversation on the topic of 'The Riddle of the Sphinx'.

"A man!" Sam blurted out, and the ticking abruptly stopped. He waited for an indication that he was correct, praying that he actually was, but Raef only spoke one word.

"Explain."

Without hesitation, Sam justified his answer. "It's a man because he crawls on all fours as a baby, walks on two legs as a man, and walks with a cane in old age. It's a man."

"Well done Sammy. Unfortunately for you, I will not destroy myself as the Sphinx did once Oedipus answered her riddle. But I _will_ give you your next task." The man cleared his throat, the sound reminding Sam of a sputtering automobile just before it dies. "A year ago I met someone like you," Raef began, and Sam's eyebrows knitted in confusion, obviously not having expected these words. "She was absolutely beautiful. I remember when I had her in a moment when she was almost petrified with fear, and believe me, there is no greater beauty in the human face than the look of pure terror."

The man sighed quietly. "She broke my heart when she escaped. She was the finest specimen I had ever laid eyes on, and her ability… It was absolutely remarkable. The fact is, she has locked herself away from me. I cannot get to her, but you Sammy,_ you_ have your methods. Bring her back to me. I will thank you to ask no questions, but just know that you must return her to me in three days. This time on Friday, Sam, bring her right to the spot you are standing, and your brother will be freed. Find Jessi Hanton, Sammy, and your brother lives."

The line clicked and then went dead, leaving Sam alone once more, the pounding of the rain and the operator's voice the only sounds within the booth. Sam was unaware of the noises, however, for the only thing that echoed through his mind was Raef's voice and the name Jessi Hanton.

* * *

**To Be Continued.**


	3. The Rosy

**WE ALL FALL DOWN**

/

_fRing around the rosy_

_A pocketful of posies  
_

_"Ashes, Ashes"_

_We all fall down!_

\

Chapter Three

The Rosy

"Should have stopped it…" Dean mumbled to himself for the sixteenth time, hugging his chest to try to keep warm, his knees pulled up to his chin. The cold was almost unbearable. His body was shivering uncontrollably, each convulsion causing another wave of pain to encase his senses. The numbness he felt earlier had somehow now vanished, leaving him to experience every single broken bone he has accumulated in the past few hours. Seven of his fingers were swollen, deep bruises sprouting across their paleness, rendering them useless as he clutched them to his chest, back leaning against the cement wall behind him. Each muscle was strained, held taut as he tried to fight the agony he had slowly slipped into, struggling to keep his eyes open as he waited for Raef to return.

"Should have stopped it…"

The madman had left several hours ago after freeing him from the chair he had been tied to since arriving in this hell hole, and had not yet returned. Dean was wondering if he had been left here to die, frozen in this small, dark room, but the sudden and familiar creak of the heavy door across the space told him otherwise.

"My goodness, it's _freezing_ in here!" Raef's voice cut through the chilly air like a knife. "Aren't you cold?"

A puff of breath escaped Dean's lips, twirling like smoke before his eyes as Raef appeared within the swirling mist. He was wearing a black turtleneck and a red coat, hands stuffed in his pockets, shoulders hunched. He smiled as Dean was hit with another fit of shivering. "You really must remember a jacket next time," Raef commented as he slid out of view again, out the door but returning within moments. "Don't worry. I have something that might warm you up."

The glowing end of the metal pipe clutched in his hand was almost white, simply the sight of it causing sweat to break out on Dean's forehead despite the cold.

"Piping hot, fresh from the oven," Raef said as he examined the heated pole.

"W-w-wait," Dean managed to pronounce between chattering teeth. Memories of a previous encounter with a heated shaft entered his mind, along with the feeling of excruciating pain as the metal touched his skin, burning through the material of his clothes and ultimately through flesh. His flesh. "Wuh-what do you want from me?" The question was surprisingly sincere, and Dean stiffly rose to his feet with a much greater struggle than he dared to show. He was looking for a chance, playing coward as he planned to search for an opening in Raef's defence. A way to escape.

Raef stared at him. "You know what I want. I want your brother. I want knowledge of his amazing power." He looked down as if in secluded thought. "To predict the future… I can't even imagine what that may be like."

"It's not all… all it's hyped up to be," the Winchester announced, holding back a shudder that the cold may not have caused. He risked a flicker of a glance toward the open door standing behind Raef. "Trust me."

"Maybe Sam can't handle it," Raef gazed up at the Winchester. "But I could do wonders with his gift. Unfortunately I wasn't granted with such a power, but if I could only convince your brother to-"

"Stay away from my brother," Dean instinctively snarled, eyes ablaze with a fire of their own. "Or else I swear to God I'll hunt you down myself and make you beg for mercy."

"I'm not the one who needs to beg Dean," Raef announced as he reached into his pocket with his free hand, pulling out a small device. Dean recognized it as a cell phone, and as Raef flipped it open and began to dial, Dean realized what he planned to do, Raef's words echoing in his head…

_Let's see what happens when I send him the messages of his big brother writhing and twisting, begging, screaming, pleading-_

Dean couldn't allow it. _Wouldn't_. He saw his chance and sprung forward; ready for contact, ignoring the burning pipe. But his entire body deeply protested and caused his movements to become slow and painful. Raef easily avoided his charge, counterattacking Dean by pouncing with lightning speed. The collision sent Dean hurdling downwards.

As they both hit the ground, Dean's arm shot up to drive an elbow into the man's side but the move was sluggish and Raef was on his feet again without being touched. And now his foot had found Dean's head, again and again.

Almost losing consciousness, Dean shut his eyes as the barrage seized and he was left lying on the cold, hard floor. He could feel the rush of blood in his head, taste the copper in his mouth, hear Raef's voice once more.

"You see Dean, I have a talent of my own."

There was a loud clatter as the metal shaft was thrown to the floor. Dean wanted to open his eyes but the pain in his head was far too great. He was forced to simply lie there and listen to Raef's attempt at conversation.

"My talent is quite unusual. I can look at a person and immediately know all of their desires, their wishes, and their dreams. I can see their accomplishments, every single thing they have taken pride in since they first learnt to spell their name in preschool. With _one_ glimpse I can honestly say I know exactly what would make that person happy."

Dean chanced a look as his eyelids slid slightly open, revealing Raef above him. The man smiled down, his lips spreading across his face in the now familiar expression. And as he did so realization quickly donned on the Winchester. "You're like Max," he breathed, speech causing his head to swirl. "A whack job with a murdering talent."

But Raef did not answer. He simply continued. "But I also see the other side. Their fears, their doubts, and their pain. All of the disappointment, anguish, and sorrow are clear to me, and I know exactly what would make that person miserable. I can crush their souls and make them hurt so badly they'd happily take their own life. My talent is quite extraordinary, you see."

He crouched down, his wrists crossing on his knees and a content sigh escaping his lips as he faced Dean. "You'd be surprised about what I learnt of your brother. His thoughts were pretty overwhelming. Anger, sadness, depression, hate. It's all bottled deep within him and you have _no_ idea."

Dean did not blink. He did not look away. He stared into the man's eyes and growled, "Don't talk about my brother. You don't know him at all."

Raef's eyebrows shot upwards in a surprised expression as he let out a mocking laugh. "Haven't you been listening to _anything_ I've just said? I know Sam more than his only brother. _I_ know that he regrets ever coming with you. _I_ know that the loss of his girlfriend is slowly killing him inside." The smile on Raef's face had still not disappeared. "Sooner or later he's going to figure it all out. He's going to realize that _you_ caused all his anguish. _You_ dragged him into this."

"Shut the hell up, or I swear to God-"

"Why don't you just leave him alone Dean? Leave him alone and get out of his life, because the truth is you're just causing him more pain. He doesn't need you. His life would have been _so much better_ if you weren't part of it. But instead you're here. You dragged him with you into hell itself and now both of you can't find a way out. You're probably going to get him killed somehow. He'll end up dead just like your father."

Raef's eyes glinted with amusement at the shocked look on Dean's face. He smiled and the Winchester found himself looking away, unable to stare at the red slash across the man's face, like a gaping wound. "My father isn't dead," he whispered between blue lips, a note of doubt quavering in his words.

Raef chuckled, increasing the volume of his voice as he stood up. "You knew it from the very beginning. As soon as he disappeared you felt it in your heart. He's gone Dean. Killed. Murdered. _Slaughtered_."

Anger burned in Dean's eyes as he glowered at the madman. "That's not true. You know my fears. You know exactly what to say to make me miserable."

"That may be true, but there are some things you can't deny. Some things you try to ignore as they slowly devour you inside. Consuming you with guilt. You broke your promise, all those long years ago. I know _all_ about it Dean. You told your brother you'd protect him. But you're always messing up. You're always making mistakes and you can't seem to make it right again. And now you've brought Sam into a world he tried to escape. One he would have left in his past if it weren't for you, and now he's going to end up dead. Why didn't you leave him to his new life, with _Jess_? Why did you rip him away? It's because you screwed up. You screwed up _horrifically_."

Raef scoffed as he walked towards the door, turning his head to look back at the Winchester as he reached the entranceway. "You're a stumbling block Dean. Only a problem. Afraid to be alone."

And then he was gone and Dean was alone.

_Alone…_

* * *

**To Be Continued.**


	4. A Pocket

**WE ALL FALL DOWN**

/

_Ring around the rosy_

_A pocketful of posies  
_

_"Ashes, Ashes"_

_We all fall down!_

\

Chapter Four 

A Pocket

He reaches for the last fry on his plate and slowly stuffs it into his mouth, eyes focused on the newspaper before him, an unwavering smile plastered on his face. Moments after he finishes his meal, he folds the pages with greasy fingers and tucks the newspaper under his arm, immediately sliding his chair back and standing up. As he reaches into his pocket, Dean watches with a wariness he has developed over the years of being a hunter.

Sam is too absorbed in his research to notice his brother's change in mood. His eyes are focused entirely on the screen of his laptop as Dean silently observes the man's actions, noting nothing too drastic to alert his brother just yet.

The stranger's hand returns with a fist full of change which he begins to count and place on the tab. Returning the excess coins to his coat, he turns to leave and Dean is surprised to feel an intense flood of relief as the man reaches the door. He almost let's out a sigh but is stopped by the man's sudden movements. Instead of walking out the door, the stranger abruptly turns around and points a gun at a waitress behind the diner counter.

No one immediately notices, not even the waitress, until Dean instinctively jumps up and shouts a warning. But it is too late and the waitress is already falling to the ground, a ringing noise filling the cramped diner and quickly being replaced with screams of terror. A baby begins to cry from the far end of the restaurant as Sam jumps at the sound of the gunshot, springing up to stand beside his brother.

A few of the other customers have done the same, standing now by their tables but unsure of what to do. Others are frozen in their chairs, gaping at the gunman with expressions of panic and terror. A few have ducked under their tables, hands held over their heads as if they can shield themselves from the reality of the situation.

"I'm awfully sorry for the noise," the gunman apologize to the mother of the screaming baby as she clutches the infant to her chest, eyes wide with horror. "But I really couldn't help it. Besides, your son needs to get used to the sound of gunshots. He'll soon grow up, and under your poor mothering, join a gang and be killed in a drive by shooting."

The woman's jaw drops as the man chuckles, making his way around the counter and towards the cash register. No one moves, the gun still held in his hands, as he glances down at the woman he has shot. "Poor girl," he sighs. "Her fiancé was killed by a bullet to the chest only last month. She had nightmares about what it had been like for him. Now I guess she finally knows."

Stepping over the dead body, he starts rummaging through the cash register, already open, and begins to stuff bills into his pockets. Dean takes a step forward, the first to snap out of the daze that seems to have enveloped the restaurant, but is immediately stopped by his brother's cry of anguish. Looking over his shoulder, he spots Sam crouched on the floor, hands gripping his head.

"My, my, _my_. Whatever is wrong with him?" Dean turns to face the gunman who seems to be watching Sam with great interest. Of course Dean knows his brother is having another vision, but he can't even begin to explain this.

"You have what you want," he snarls instead, motioning towards the empty cash register. "You better leave. The police will be here any minute."

But the man is not listening as Sam straightens and their eyes meet for a sliver of a second. "Don't open the door!" Sam shouts abruptly, but it's too late. The back door of the diner swings open and an old man walks into the room. Donning a greasy apron and a startled expression on his face, there is another bang as the gunman swings around and fires a shot. The man is dead before he hits the ground.

"No," Dean hears his brother whisper breathlessly behind him, and then he is gripping the gun he keeps against the small of his back. However, before he can pull it out and aim it at the murderer, he is gone; out the back door that the old man had entered through.

_Vanished_.

\\\

"Jessi Hanton is a peculiar case indeed," the doctor stated as he led Sam through a maze of hallways, each one similar in appearance: pure white walls, wooden doors on the left, large clean windows to the right facing a calm yard with tall leafy trees and benches scattered amongst it.

"She admitted herself, is that correct?" Sam asked, trying to sound like he knew what the hell he was talking about. Truth is, it took him quite a while to find even the slightest amount of information on Jessi Hanton. At one point it seemed like she didn't even exist, and that Raef had sent him on a wild goose chase just to see him fail. But then Sam had found an article dated almost two years ago in the town of Los Angeles. A young girl found half dead on the side of the road, multiple injuries that indicated some sort of torture that spanned months. She was identified as Jessica Olivia Hanton, a girl who went missing a half a year ago after the death of her parents.

Sam was unsure if anyone had claimed her; maybe a long lost aunt or uncle, a grandparent… but eventually he had discovered that Jessi had admitted herself into a mental facility just outside of New York City for unrevealed yet obvious reasons. Now he was here to speak to her, to find out just what Raef meant when he had said "Someone like you".

He followed the doctor to a door that was partly ajar. A plaque that read 'lounge' hung on it as it was pushed inwards, allowing the two to step into a fairly large room. The walls were bleached here too, and even larger windows than those in the hall lined the far wall, looking out onto a small courtyard. There were several tables lined up in the middle of the space where scattered individuals sat. A pair of old men were playing chess at one while another held a middle aged woman who was scribbling something in a notebook. Everyone in the room seemed to be busy with one thing or another.

Everyone except for one person. The girl sat alone at a table by the window across the room, her face hidden as she faced the tall glass and the world behind it. Sunlight filtered in through the swaying leaves of ivy crowded too closely against the pane.

The doctor departed with a curt nod in her direction and Sam was suddenly left to gaze at the only person who could save his brother's life. A stranger.

As he walked anxiously forward, the girl slowly turned her head toward the approaching footsteps and Sam beheld her face. Wavy amber hair outlined high cheekbones, thin eyebrows hovering above eyes wide and chocolate brown, skin so pale it seemed a hard look might leave a bruise. She looked somehow detached, a distracted glint in her stare. Sam curtly held out his hand as he reached the small, plastic table and she shook it timidly, her skin cold even in the ray of sunshine peaking through the ivy leaves.

"Hello Jessi," he greeted politely, her eyes never straying from his as he took a seat across from her. "I'm Dr. Therrien. I, um, work in a neighbouring hospital not far from here."

She slightly nodded her head as she listened to his lie, seeming relaxed while maintaining a distant look in her eyes. Sam fumbled for words. He should have been more prepared, but spending an entire day just _finding _Jessi had made his stress level sky rocket. He had two days left. Two days to convince Jessi to check herself out and follow him back to the man who had beat her, tormented her, and caused her to check herself into a mental facility.

Yeah. Good luck.

Raef probably haunted her dreams, twisting them into nightmares that kept sleep at bay. That would explain the dark circles underneath her eyes. The eyes that were staring at him while simultaneously revealing that their owner was far, far away. God, would he even be able to get through to her? Was she still conscious of reality? Before she had just been a name; a woman's name on the lips of a madman. But now he was sitting in front of her, staring at a face that held memories of a past, emotions, thoughts and feelings. This was a human being. This was someone who had been horribly damaged and left to recover what little left she had in a mental facility, alone.

He had planned on telling her a lie, but he knew now that nothing but the truth would reach her. No fib was going to be sharp enough to penetrate the wall this poor girl had built with months of torture and fear; the same personal hell his brother was probably experiencing right now.

"Listen, Jessi…" He cleared his throat, glancing down at the table, somehow unable to meet her empty gaze any longer. "I lied. I'm not… I'm not a doctor. I'm here because I need your help." He looked up, hoping for a hint of acknowledgment in the woman's face, but her eyes were still vacant pits. "Actually, my brother needs your help. You see, he's been taken by the same man who took you. Raef."

The name seemed to gain a reaction. Jessi's eyes widened slightly, her lips parting. Her skin looked paler, if that was even possible. Sam kept talking, his words spilling out in barely controlled whispers.

"I think he's hurting my brother, Jessi. Just like he hurt you. I need to save him, but I can't do that without your help." Sam paused, praying that his next words wouldn't scare her away. "He's asked for you. Raef wants me to bring you to him or else he's going to kill Dean. I need you to come with me, Jessi. But I promise I won't let him hurt you. I _promise_ that I'm going to kill Raef before he even gets the chance to touch you."

Silence. Jessi's expression had not changed at all aside from her initial shock at his words, and Sam was left to impatiently await a response, if one would even be forthcoming. Her lips slowly closed as she blinked, her large eyes disappearing for a moment in a sweep of lashes. She swallowed, the sound strangely loud in the large room.

"I think…" Sam leaned in closer as her soft voice barely drifted over the table separating them. "I think I want you to leave."

Sam's shoulders slumped. "Jessi, listen. I know I'm asking a lot, but I promise you that I'll-"

_"Now_."

Sam could see that there was no use arguing. He had absolutely no right to ask this woman to do what he needed of her. No right at all. In fact, he felt ashamed just having brought up the topic of Raef. His unwanted intrusion had probably sent her months back in her recovery. Hell, how was he supposed to ask her what Raef meant by "Someone like you"? How was he supposed to willingly dredge up this woman's nightmares?

"All right," he agreed, nodding his head slowly. He could barely meet her eyes, but at the same time he couldn't tear them away. She might be his brother's only chance at survival, yet he couldn't bring himself to push her into doing anything about it. It was unfair. It wasn't who he was, who his brother wanted him to be, and so he would just have to come up with another plan. He had two days.

Two days…

"If you, uh, change your mind," he said as he reached a hand into his pocket, standing up. "I'm staying here. My number's on the back." He placed a card for the motel he was currently crashing in on the table. Then, with nothing left to do, he mumbled an apology and then left the room.

* * *

**To Be Continued.**


	5. Full of Posies

**WE ALL FALL DOWN**

/

_Ring around the rosy_

_A pocketful of posies_

_"Ashes, Ashes"_

_We all fall down!_

\

Chapter Five

Full of Posies

Sam's brain wouldn't work. It refused to operate. Something had happened to its circuits. The nerve endings had blown.

It just. Wouldn't. _Work_.

Cradling his face in his hands, Sam tried to breathe in deeply, but the musty motel air got stuck somewhere in his dry throat. Why couldn't he think of a solution? Why didn't he have some form of plan to help his brother? Why was he so _fucking_ useless? He couldn't help but wonder if he had done the right thing, allowing Jessi to stay in the mental facility. Maybe he should have dragged her out of there, disregarding whether she had wanted to come along or not. Maybe this whole situation had lost its sense of morality a long, long time ago.

"Don't let yourself think that way, Sam," he whispered to himself. "Don't become the monster."

God, if only that vision had never happened. If only Raef had not discovered his power. That had been a horrible, messed up day. Not only had Sam witnessed the shooting of two innocent people, but to top it all off, he had started to receive alarming phone calls from their murderer later that night. Conversations that enquired about his visions, that asked him to do things; to join that killer. Sam had been disgusted by the entire thing. He didn't know how Raef had received his cell phone number in the first place, but he was damned if he was going to stand there and listen to his insane ideas.

He and Dean had searched for the killer, but New York was a big place, and their attempts had turned out to be futile. How was Sam supposed to know that _they_ were the ones being followed that entire time? He knotted his fists in his hair and pulled, somehow managing to subdue the scream building in his throat.

Think, Sam, Think. Think. _Think_. THINK. _THINK_. _THINK!_

A knock on the door startled him. It echoed through the dark room, causing him to jump. But then he was still, not even his chest moving, only his ears straining to catch the slightest sound. However, the only thing he perceived was the rapid thudding of his own heart. Slowly rising from the end of the bed, the knock came again, but this time he did not flinch. Instead, he walked swiftly to the door and pulled it open.

"Jessi?" The small woman immediately pushed past the entrance, entering the motel room and turning around to face him. Sam shut the door, unable to keep the look of surprise from his face. "What are you doing here?"

"You said you'd kill him," she immediately interrupted, the sleeves of her grey sweater hanging well past her hands. Sam didn't know what to say at first.

"Uh… Yah, I did."

"You'd kill Raef?" She looked like she was about to burst into tears, her voice a strangled question.

"How about we sit down?" Sam suggested, motioning towards the two single beds that stood a few feet apart. He had asked for two singles without even thinking. Force of habit, he supposed.

She nodded her head, hesitating for a second before she walked over and practically collapsed on the bed. Sam followed, sitting opposite from her.

"I'm… I'm sorry," she sighed, her hands unable to stay still as she wrung them around in her lap. Her head was hung low, her eyes squeezed shut. "I just keep seeing his face. His eyes…"

"I know this is hard for you, Jessi," Sam assured her. "I can't even begin to imagine what you went through, but any information you can give me about him may help."

"He's a killer," she said immediately, her eyes flickering slightly upwards before painfully turning away again. "Insane. _Sadistic_. He enjoys watching people suffer. It's the only time he really comes alive. Have you noticed how his eyes blaze when he's inflicting pain? The actual smile he gives when you scream? He's a killer with no compassion, no moral conscience, no sympathy." She paused for a moment and Sam saw the tears glimmering in her eyes. He was about to tell her she could stop if she needed to, but the girl suddenly continued. "He has a horribly disturbing sense of humour, and a short attention span. He gets bored quickly, and once that happens, well… You can easily be compared to an old toy that's cast aside and forgotten in the deepest, darkest corner of a child's closet.

"When you're unfortunate enough to become a game to him, he doesn't just make _you_ suffer; he causes all of those around you to suffer, too. I don't know how he does it, but it always seems like he knows exactly where to strike, what your greatest fears and weakest flaws are. He's a psychopath, but not one that simply kills. He destroys."

\\\

It must be some sort of trick. Another sick game Raef had thought up to torture him. He shouldn't trust it. He really shouldn't…

The door was open an inch, an invitation Dean could barely resist.

He didn't know how long he had been lying unconscious on the cold, cement floor, but he estimated it was a few hours. Then again, it could have been a day, or maybe just a few minutes. The blood on his face had dried. It had trickled down from his head wound, where Raef had kicked the shit out of him, and now it itched like hell. His head still throbbed from the repetitive kicks. He probably had a concussion. His fingers were useless; swollen masses that could only twitch. He wondered what his body looked like; how many bruises littered his skin. It felt like his mouth was lined with cotton balls, his tongue thick and heavy. His lips were cracked and bleeding. God, when was the last time he had eaten?

_Shit_, he was in bad shape. Really bad shape. How much longer could he take of this? And when Sam came looking for him… If he found that Jessi chick, then what? Dean knew he wouldn't simply hand her over. That wasn't Sam's nature. No, he'd fight. But would he win?

The door still stood open. Dean had confirmed it wasn't an illusion. It was actually open, unlocked; willing to swing inwards and allow him to leave this godforsaken room. But what would await him out there? Raef had obviously left the door open on purpose. Or maybe it had been an accident. He highly doubted that scenario. Nevertheless, he tried to remember if it had been open when Raef had left, before he had allowed unconsciousness to consume him, but he couldn't remember. Everything was so hazy…

Trap or not, Dean wasn't going to stay here. Lifting his shoulders and using his elbows to prop himself up, he tried to sit up. An urge to vomit gripped him immediately and he twisted his body sideways, throwing up on the cement floor. _So much for dignity…_ he thought to himself as he managed to obtain a position on his hands and knees, his weight strategically placed on his palms to eliminate the pain in his fingers. He remained like this for a moment, head hanging between his shoulders as he breathed heavily. His vision was spinning out of control, and he closed his eyes to steady himself.

"Come on, Dean," he whispered to himself. "You've been through worse. Just stand up. Come on, get up. _Get up_."

Grunting in pain, he somehow brought a knee forward and placed his foot on the ground, pushing off until he found himself standing upright. The room was tilting side to side in the darkness, and he reached out a hand to support himself against the wall, stumbling to the side until he leaned against the cool partition. His head began to clear as he walked towards the door, never leaving the aid of the cement wall. He didn't trust his knees to bear his weight just yet.

Eventually he reached the door and opened it using one of his elbows, surprised at how effortlessly it swung inwards. The creak it made was quiet this time, as if it knew his situation and was trying to help out. Dean entered a long, narrow hallway, and he followed it until it opened up into a larger room. It was dark, but the first thing that caught his attention was a faint, bluish glow that radiated to his right.

His cell phone.

Practically throwing himself at the slim device, Dean had difficulty dialling his brother's number. In the end, he had to use his right pinkie, the only one of his ten fingers that still functioned normally. He cradled the cell phone between his two palms as he held it up to his ear, the other line ringing. He was damn glad they had decided not to throw Sam's phone away, even though a crazed killer had his number.

There was a click, and then his brother's hissing voice flooded the room. "What do you want now, Raef?"

"Sammy? It's me."

"Dean?" The relief in Sam's voice was clearly discernable. "Dean, are you all right?"

"I'm a little worse for wear, but still walking and talking.

"Raef. Where's Raef?"

"I don't know. He… He left the door open. I don't know if it's some sort of trap or what, but I had to take it." Dean squeezed his eyes shut, his head suddenly throbbing again. He got another urge to vomit but somehow managed to stop it from rising.

"All right, listen to me, Dean. You've got to tell me where you are. Do you know?"

He looked around, abruptly realizing that he had absolutely _no_ clue where he was. The room he stood in looked like an abandoned office. His cell phone had been lying on an old wooden desk, and there were a few filing cabinets tucked into one corner, tarnished pieces of paper scattered across the floor. The walls had once been painted a bright tan colour but were now peeling and cracked. The ceiling was littered with water stains that spread across its expanse like bacteria. "I'm in some sort of rundown office," he told his brother. "Hang on."

There was a large, grimy window to his left, and he limped towards it. Wiping the glass with his forearm, he peaked out. It was raining. He realized now that he could hear it, the constant pattering of raindrops hitting multiple surfaces. Outside he could see what appeared to be a courtyard. No, it was some sort of large room, but the ceiling had collapsed. Mounds of bricks were spread across a stone floor where they had fallen. There were areas of muddy dirt where several flowers had managed to sprout, but they were already being strangled by the weeds that surrounded them.

Dean narrowed his eyes as he spotted a sign hanging crookedly on one of the deteriorating walls. "There's a sign," he said into the phone. "It says… Maslow's Butterfly Conservatory."

"Maslow's Butterfly Conservatory?" Sam repeated. "All right, Dean, get out of there. I'm going to-"

But Dean couldn't hear the rest of his brother's sentence, because the phone was suddenly snatched from his grip and he was pulled harshly backwards.

* * *

**To Be Continued.**


	6. Ashes Ashes

**WE ALL FALL DOWN**

/

_Ring around the rosy_

_A pocketful of posies_

_"Ashes, Ashes"_

_We all fall down!_

\

Chapter Six

Ashes Ashes

"Silly, _silly_ boy." Raef's voice was laced with disappointment as Dean struggled to stand, shards of broken wood digging into the skin of his palms as he used the ruins of the desk to lift himself up. He grunted as his muscles screamed with the effort. "You had to spoil it, didn't you?" The man watched him reach his feet. "I really do not understand. Why run away? I thought we were finally beginning to understand one another."

Dean freed himself from the entanglement of the broken furniture and quickly found an open space in the room. "You mean all this time we could have been friends?" he asked sardonically.

A grin appeared and Raef turned his body to face Dean. "Humor, I like it!" he commented, but Dean shook his head.

"You won't find anything funny about me killing you."

There was a slight pause before Raef spoke again, the smile having been replaced with a contemplative look. "You know, Dean," he began in a calm voice. "I was thinking of letting you go. After all, you kept your promise. You never begged, not even once. I guess I underestimated you."

Dean blinked the sweat from his eyes as he stared forward, the man's shadow engulfing his own and casting him in darkness. A disturbing feeling took hold of him as he found himself unable to wrench his eyes away from Raef's threatening form.

"I even liked you. I was going to reward you with your freedom." The man stepped forward, becoming clearer in Dean's vision as he tried to concentrate on the madman. Raef's hands were clasped before him, a sarcastic smirk on his daunting face. His steps were slow yet flowing, like a dancer in a recital. "Now I have to say, you were just a disappointment."

Dean's senses were bleary; unfocused, his muscles weak and his strength deteriorating. He saw the kick before it struck him but was unable to react fast enough. He staggered and collided with the wall behind him as his breath escaped from his lungs in a painful burst. Raef stepped back, laughing with the memory of the satisfying give he had felt as a rib collapsed beneath his foot. The madman aimed another kick, but Dean managed to twist and dive away. The pain of his shattered rib burned through him as he instantly positioned himself in the best fighting stance he could manage.

Raef was already facing him, his arms slightly swaying as his smile refused to fade. "Tell me, Dean," he spoke. "What frightens you?"

Dean remained silent, focusing only on the man as he continued to talk. Raef did not wait for an answer to his question.

"Is it… rats?" He held out his hands in a figurative gesture, but then brushed the suggestion away. "Nah! Too minor."

His fingers were stroking his chin now as he appeared to be contemplating.

"How about… flying?"

He chuckled.

"That's nothing compared to what you _truly_ fear."

He ran his tongue across his front teeth before continuing.

"_Weakness_," he whispered harshly. "You are afraid to_ fail_."

Dean's body tensed as the man laughed quietly.

"But it isn't that simple, is it Dean? There's much more to it, for you're a complicated guy. You know that failing can only lead to one thing." Raef paused for a dramatic effect. "Loss. You're afraid that if you fail you will lose the only thing in your pathetic life you feel is worth living for. Your family."

Dean gritted his teeth as he somehow restrained himself from rushing forward; from beating that smile off Raef's face. He could hear the blood rushing in his head. It fogged his hearing slightly but the madman's voice was still sharp. It was still able to tear at him.

"But you're so _brainless_ that you just can't see it Dean. You lost your family a long, long time ago."

"Shut up." It was barely a whisper on Dean's lips.

"You're like a pitiable dog. A mangy mutt who keeps returning to its abusive master even after it has been beaten, and beaten, and _beaten_."

A lump formed in Dean's throat as he narrowed his eyes further.

"You keep clinging to the thought that things will all work out in the end, but you're wrong. Your greatest fear is looking you straight in the face, Dean, and sooner or later you are going to have to open your eyes and _see_ it, because you _are_ alone and you will always _be _alone!"

And now Dean suddenly saw. He saw Sam and his father. He heard their arguments and he felt Sam's sadness. He smelt his own fear and tasted the blood in his mouth. And he knew. He knew that he was _not_ alone and that what he lived for was not senseless, but it was what he was. And everything was clearer. Not frightening but simply… evident.

"You can kill me you son of a bitch, but what I _die_ for you will never have."

The words came strongly from Dean, but Raef, deliberately or otherwise, appeared not to hear them. His voice was suddenly weary. "I'm tired of waiting Dean. I'm afraid your brother won't make it in time. I guess you should go." He said this as if he was speaking to a departing dinner guest, examining his fingernails distractedly but then flicking his eyes to pierce Dean with a deathly stare. "But when Sam does arrive, which I know he will, thanks to your little call, I'll be sure to send him your regards."

And suddenly the man was a blur. Without warning, Raef shot forward and air burst stiffly from Dean's lungs. There was the sound of crashing glass and he was suddenly falling, shards of the broken window he had burst through surrounding him. The air whipped through his hair for only a moment before he hit the ground. The impact was hard and solid, causing momentary paralysis to grip him. Pain was all he knew for those few excruciating seconds. Unbearable pain that covered his skin, ached deep within his bones, and pounded through his head.

As shock of the impact slowly faded from his body, he tried to get up, a sharp pain in his ankle, couldn't make it, falling on his side with a groan. Blood glistened at his mouth, bubbling at the corner of his lips as he wheezed with each breath. The bitter rain had extinguished the searing anger within his broken body and now only panic and derisive fear remained. As these emotions quickly settled in, he found himself absolutely terrified.

The madman was right. Failure was an overwhelming awareness and Dean somehow knew that this was the end. Sam would be alone if he arrived, for Dean was defenseless against Raef. There was no way to turn.

He wanted to simply lie there as rain rushed around his still figure, to accept his fate, but the dread rising in him was demanding him to live. As if in a nightmare, he tasted the dirt and grime of the fractured stone floor he crawled across, the filth of it combining with the hot taste of his own blood and the cold flavor of his own defeat. Laughter pealed from the crumbling brick walls, cutting harshly through the steady pattering of rain surrounding him. Instinct was all that drove him, like a dying animal, and he dragged himself across the rain-slicked ground, his trembling, swollen fingers searching for gaps between the stones. Pale, uneven clouds formed irregularly before him as his breath was smeared by the rain. His fading muscles managed to pull his mass forward another few inches, but he already knew it was useless, for his body had betrayed him and he was helpless.

With a last effort he heaved himself against a decaying brick wall, mud building at its base and weeds sprouting from beneath it. Above him the brooding sky was clear, the ceiling having been washed away by rain many years ago. The downpour teemed all around him, large heavy drops hitting his body and each like a needle piercing his skin.

Raef suddenly stood before him, lips curled in glee and wild eyes glowing with madness. Dean's lips trembled with the cold, with shock, with loss beyond anything he had ever felt before. He could not form the words he needed to say, the apology he had to make for the failure his life had been. He had yet to kill the demon; to witness its death along with the revenge of numerous families other than his own. He had yet to tell Sam that he would do anything to give him a normal life; to take away the nightmarish reality he had lost his innocence to. He had yet to say goodbye.

Dean narrowed his eyes against the rain that streamed across his face, forcing himself to focus on the madman. His vision still blurred from the beating he had endured, he saw nothing but Raef's grin and blazing eyes. The madman looked surreal, ghastly. Dean knew he was solid, vulnerable, flesh and blood. He knew this better than most. Still, he shivered. Not with the stabbing rain but with dread of the man before him now. Dark creature: he appeared barely human, his long scarecrow figure settled against the deeper black of the storm.

A volley of lightning streaked down from the sky. There was a flash of white light; brief, luminous, blinding. The sudden brilliance brought physical pain and Dean shut his eyes, cringing in agony. His eyelids slid open once more as his sight fell upon Raef, his head thrown back as his laughter was drowned by the deafening thunder sounding above. His hands were held up to the sky and it was if the storm was answering to the night's new ruler.

As the noise faded to a dull roar, Raef glanced down and something slipped into his hand. Dean's heart quickened as the man bent to one knee and clutched his jaw, forcing their eyes to meet. Glazed hazel encountered metallic blue and it was suddenly as if the rain had stopped and the night was silent. Dean was unable to see the man's lips move but he heard Raef's voice as clearly as if spoken in his own head.

"Ashes… Ashes… We all fall down."

* * *

**To Be Continued.**


	7. We All Fall

**WE ALL FALL DOWN**

/

_Ring around the rosy_

_A pocketful of posies_

_"Ashes, Ashes"_

_We all fall down!_

\

Chapter Seven

We All Fall

"I'm coming with you." Jessi's stare was fierce, her red hair like flames around her eyes. Fortunately for Sam, he had come across much more intimidating things than the 5'4" woman blocking his path now.

"You can't come."

"But you said your brother was going to die unless I went with you."

"Things have changed," Sam announced as he slipped an extra clip into his pocket. "I'm not going to risk your safety this way."

"You think Raef isn't setting a trap? You think he would be stupid enough to let your brother escape unless he wanted to?"

Sam stared. "I know it's a trap," he said, his voice low. "But I have to try. I have to try to save him." He waited silently for Jessi's reply, for he had a feeling she wasn't going to give up easily. Although he had to wonder why she was so eager to meet Raef again.

"And _I_ have to try too." Sam heard a frustrated sigh escape her lips. "The way you described your brother… He's a hero. You both are, but Raef is the complete opposite of that. When you clash, things are going to get really ugly really fast. You're going to need me."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "Need you? Jessi, why does Raef want you so badly?"

Her face paling, Jessi seemed to lose her determination as her shoulders tensed and her eyes darted to the side. "I'm not sure. Who knows what goes through the mind of someone like that…"

Sam could sense that she was lying, but he didn't push the topic. Instead, he let out his own frustrated sigh, rubbing his face with a hand before catching and holding Jessi's eyes, which had returned from their moment of hesitation. "You can come, but only if you promise to stay in the car. I have a feeling Dean won't be-" Sam's voice wavered for a moment, his brow furrowing. "I have a feeling he won't be in walking condition, so I might need your help getting him to someplace safe. You got it?"

Jessi nodded. "Got it."

Less than ten minutes later, Sam and Jessi pulled into the unkempt parking lot of the Maslow Butterfly Conservatory. Sam had been surprised to discover that the Conservatory was nearer than he had first expected, residing just on the outskirts of New York City. While Jessi sat safely in the car with instructions to drive away immediately if anyone but he or Dean approached, Sam entered the building through the main entrance.

The Conservatory wasn't terribly large, and he followed the strong yellow beam of a flashlight as it cast shadows upon the walls of a wide hallway. His eyes searched the gloom for any sign of movement as he carried on, tattered pictures of butterflies surrounding him. The storm could still be heard above, an endless attack on the thinning roof of the old building. The air was cold and thick with the smell of brick, decaying wood, and weeds.

As Sam walked deeper into the passage, the noise of the downpour outside steadily increasing with each step, he suddenly realized that the end of the hall led to an open area where rain could be seen striking a stone floor. His heart leapt as a strange feeling clutched his spine, and now he was running. He reached the end of the crumbling hallway in seconds, and for a moment he thought his eyes were deceiving him. Through the sheet of rain he perceived two dark figures, both sitting upon the ground.

No, one was crouching. His arm was drawn back and something was gripped in his hand. The other figure was hard to make out against the dark background of the wall he was huddled against. But then lightning tore through the sky, illuminating every raindrop that fell to the earth and the gleaming silver knife as it plunged itself deep into his brother's abdomen. Thunder accompanied the flash of brilliance as it revealed Dean's face and the look of emptiness that gripped it as he felt the sharp object pierce his skin and cut through tissue, muscle, and organs as easily as if they were softened butter.

For a moment Sam stood frozen in the entryway, but then puddles were splashing beneath his feet and raindrops exploding against his body as he drove into them, hurdling towards the two men. Raef's head turned in his direction, a smile playing on his lips. The madman reacted quickly, almost inhumanly, and he was soon standing straight, knife grasped in hand. The last remains of Dean's blood that stained the weapon were washed away by the rain, clean, glittering metal once again visible. Sam did not stop his charge and the man did not appear to lift his knife in defence. Instead, his smile widened to a grin as Sam hurled himself through the air towards him.

The impact was harsh as the two men collided, both tumbling to the stone floor. Sam tried to pin Raef down, but the man was too quick, slipping from his grasp and jumping to his feet. Sam was fast too, but unable to gain his bearings before a foot cut through the rain, catching him directly beneath the chin. The force snapped his head back as his body followed, and he landed hard on his back. He struggled to regain his breath as his head swarmed and his throat and chest tightened and constricted. He was looking up through the hole in the ceiling but dark, inky blotches were clouding his vision, obstructing his sight for a moment.

In those few seconds, two gnarled hands grabbed him by the front of his shirt and heaved him upwards. He struggled to maintain his balance as his vision cleared, exposing Raef's face, even now holding a genuine joy as icy rain streamed down his cheeks. As he stood straight, Sam was able to focus once more, the incredible rage he felt still fresh in his veins. Adrenaline rushed through his body as he quickly pulled back his fist and swung it forward. Raef dodged but was clipped by a second punch as Sam's arms became a blur of movement. The man took three more to the head but remained standing, blocking a fourth with his forearm and unexpectedly jutting his head forward.

There was a loud ringing in Sam's ears as he stumbled backward. Luckily, he was still able to concentrate, ducking just before a concrete fist struck the side of his face. Another block, this time halting a knee directed for his stomach, but the collision still sent him back and his foot caught on a loose brick. He faltered, and this time he was unable to stop the attack as pain exploded in his left shoulder and then from the right side of his head. He lost his balance and a combination of the slippery surface of the stone beneath his feet and a sudden dizziness that enveloped his mind sent him falling rearward.

A pile of bricks awaited him, and Sam was knocked unconscious while thunder sounded his defeat from the heavens.

\\\

"Dean?"

The name felt foreign on her tongue yet she tried to speak it with feeling, as if she had known this man for her entire life. His eyes had closed and they had not yet fluttered open, and now she was shouting his name. Her voice died along with the resounding thunder and she was left wondering what to do.

Instinctively, she pressed her fingers beneath his left ear. _Ignore the watery blood that slicks his neck. Find it. Find it._ But there was not even a faint pulse beneath his cold, wet skin.

_Dean Winchester is dead_.

Jessi had guessed as much. She had promised Sam that she would wait in the car, but even then she had known that he and his brother wouldn't be in need of a get-away driver. Raef never let his victims escape alive. Yes, she could be considered the one exception, but it's not like she had really _lived_ after her ordeal with the madman. And that's why she was needed here. That's why she had to save Dean and Sam.

She had miraculously managed to follow Sam without him noticing, her footsteps hidden by the pelting rain, but then she had witnessed the horrible act inflicted on his brother. She had come to crouch by his side while Sam dealt with Raef. Jessi could hear the battle of the two men behind her. She wanted to look, to help Sam, but she could not leave the motionless body lying before her. Slumped against the wall, head slightly lolled to the side, he was so damaged; broken, and Jessi could not believe that a human being had inflicted so much mutilation. She wished with all her soul that there was a way to salvage this man's life, somehow bring him back to life, but bitter defeat was settling in.

A strange conversation suddenly pushed itself to the front of her mind. Spoken more than two years ago, she could hear the words in her head as if they were being replayed on a tape. Raef's voice was clear and precise. _"Did you know, my sweet Jessi, that if you have your head chopped off you can expect seven seconds of consciousness before all the blood drains from your brain? Imagine that! You would have time to view the world from a bodiless perspective."_

A thought began to form in Jessi's mind as she managed to tear her gaze from the still body of the man. Her eyes fell on Raef only meters away, Sam lying unconscious at the base of a pile of shattered bricks. And suddenly she knew what she had to do.

Shakily, she got to her feet.

\\\

Sam's eyelids fluttered open. He could feel the rain, the drops soaking through his clothes and through his body. A sharp pain bloomed from the back of his head. He reached a hand back to survey the damage, but his arm refused to move. His whole body remained still as he screamed in his head to get up, and for a panicked moment he wondered if he was paralyzed. However, as the grogginess lifted from his mind, he realized that his body still held feeling, and that if he tried, he could turn his head to the side.

That's when he heard her voice, and he suddenly remembered what had happened. Raef had been found. Dean had been stabbed. It seemed Jessi had disobeyed his orders too. Confusion filled his body as he spotted the woman standing a few meters away. Dean's body was behind her, and he felt his puzzlement replaced with rage once more. The rain was cold against his skin but his body was heated with a vicious swirl of emotion.

Raef stood above him, the man's back turned. Sam wanted to reach a hand out and pull him down so that he could beat the smile off his face, but all he could do was lie there. His brain wasn't working properly. His head throbbed with pain, his vision threatening to disappear again. However, he willed his eyes to remain open as he watched the event that played out before him.

"Raef!" Jessi screamed over the pounding rain.

A flash of lightning brought a threatening gleam from a set of cold-blue eyes. Raef stared at Jessi with a slightly surprised but amused expression as a rumble of thunder almost immediately replaced the streak of lightning.

"You killed him!" she cried angrily and a smile split the man's face as he let out a cruel laugh. Before he had time to reply to her observation she was speaking again, her voice firm and confident, something allowing her to speak steadily.

"I'm not afraid of you!" she shouted, and the grin abruptly vanished. "I know what you are!" she continued, Raef's expression quickly transforming from amusement to anger. "You're just a scared little boy!"

The man's hands tightened as his thin eyebrows cut downward. There was no laughter in his face now.

Jessi's chest heaved with the effort to spit out the words. Sam knew her mind was swimming with fear but her appearance did not show it. Her copper hair hung in tangled strands around her face and her teeth were tightly clenched, her jaw aching with the strain.

"You're afraid to die! You're scared of death so you surround yourself with it. You know that it will come for you one day so you try to wrap yourself in the pain and suffering of others, hoping that you can gain control. But you know it will still come!" Raef was walking towards her now, his body tense and awkward as her words seemed to tear at his core and rip out his greatest fear, revealing it for what it truly was. "You know you are going to die and that scares the hell out of you! You can't escape it Raef! You can't escape death!"

Sam watched as Raef pounded across the stone. He wanted to yell, to tell Jessi to run, but all that escaped his lips was a croak. His voice extinguished by the rain, all he could do was watch as Raef's arm whipped across Jessi's face and sent her to the ground. Her knees and palms landed hard on the rock, but she glared over her shoulder, Raef towering above her as his usual smile was replaced with a venomous snarl.

Sam wanted to strangle Raef as he reached a hand toward Jessi. His gripped her jaw and pulled her upward, her body twisting to comply with the direction the man dragged her. She found herself sitting on the wet stone, one hand gripping the man's wrist as his hand suddenly moved to her neck, his long fingers wrapping them tenderly around her pale skin. The man's scowl was full with joy once more as a smile stretched across his face, teeth as white as bleached bones. Strands of his dark hair hung limply before his eyes but Sam was still able to see the inferno burning within them. Raef was truly enjoying this moment; he was truly alive. And it was all too real.

* * *

**To Be Continued.**


	8. Down

**WE ALL FALL DOWN**

/

_Ring around the rosy_

_A pocketful of posies_

_"Ashes, Ashes"_

_We all fall down!_

\

Chapter Eight

Down

It was now or never. Do or die. As the pressure on her neck grew from gentle, almost a parting caress, to an unrelenting force, Jessi reached out her other hand and gripped the cold, limp arm of Dean.

At first there was nothing and panic gripped her body. Her life was slowly diminishing as Raef's hand squeezed her neck, allowing her only to squirm beneath his gaze, her lips parted in a useless attempt to obtain air. Her plan had failed and the realization that her life was about to end forced Jessi to thrash around wildly, the man chuckling silently as he watched the life unhurriedly strangled from her.

But then there was a flicker of pain in her leg and a glimmer of hope appeared. The sting lasted only a moment, and almost as soon as it disappeared, Raef's smile also vanished. In its place was confusion; puzzlement, uncertainty, and then recognition. A sharp throbbing in Jessi abdomen faded as quickly as it had appeared and Raef doubled over, dropping to his knees beside her as he groaned in agony. His fingers slipped from her neck and she fell down on her back once she was released. However, as she gulped in air, the substance as sweet as sugar on her tongue, she refused to let go of Raef, still clinging to his wrist.

There was another stab in her abdomen and Raef screamed. He tried to tug his arm away but she had it locked in a death grip. His screams grew louder as various injuries passed through Jessi, taken from Dean's broken body and only remaining within hers for a few seconds before passing on to Raef. Here they remained, and the man's body was slowly breaking down as numerous wounds took residence. He collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain on the cold stone as Jessi cringed. Moments passed as the torture continued, Raef's body quieting to less then a squirm. He was lying on his side, his eyes open and staring at her. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as the blue fire that once blazed behind his eyes was now little more than a flickering flame. He blinked once and choked as his ankle suddenly snapped and was left broken.

Jessi stared back. She watched as his face turned a ghostly white, the several cuts on his face standing out like red wine spilt on an ashen tablecloth. She could taste copper in her mouth but it did not worry her. The pain she felt only lasted seconds before the wound was healed.

Raef's lips moved as if to say something but a strangled gurgle was all that escaped his throat. His body was crumpled; dying. Fear was evident in his face now. Jessi could see it clearly in his eyes as they faded to a dull, whitish blue. She soon found she could no longer look at the pitiful man, his own inflictions slowly draining the life from him. Instead, she turned her head and focused her eyes on Dean.

Slumped against the crumbling brick wall, hair matted to his head, his lips were tinged with the blue of death. However, even in this state she could see the man he had been in life. The man his brother had described him to be. A slow rise of his chest suddenly caught her attention. With wide eyes, she watched as a small puff of air escaped from his lips, expanding and rising before disappearing in the rainy darkness. She gasped in surprise as a new feeling clutched her. A coldness beyond anything she had ever felt before shrouded her left hand, the one clutching Dean, and realization suddenly hit her. It was time for the passing of death. She hadn't thought it possible, believed it could be done, but how much did she truly understand of her power?

She could see the life returning to Dean; colour immediately restoring pasty skin, eyelids twitching, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. A chilling alarm rang in her head and she wondered if she would be able to pass death on to Raef before she succumbed to it herself. It was already taking her, and there was no time to ponder whether she should tear her hand away from Dean. She never would have thought of it anyway, for he deserved to live and Raef deserved to die, and if she was not to make it either then she would accept that.

As the coldness seeped to her heart and prepared to stop its beating, perhaps forever, a smile of her own reached her lips.

\\\

Sam watched in awe and horror as Raef fell to the ground. At first he didn't realize what was happening. Had Jessi stabbed him? Had she somehow gotten the upper hand? Was Raef sick? But then it donned on him. Jessi was using her power.

That's what Raef had meant. "Someone like you". Gifted. A freak.

What her power was, he was not entirely sure, but as he continued to watch the gruesome display before him, he noticed that injuries were spontaneously appearing on Raef's body. The madman was squirming on the ground now, Jessi's hand wrapped tightly around his wrist and unwilling to let go. Sam tried to rise but found he still couldn't move. His head felt like a hundred pound weight attached to his neck. Dean was dead, and the one who killed him was now meeting his fate at the hands of someone other than him. Personal revenge was no longer an option, and with that gone, the anger that burned within him was extinguished, leaving nothing but emptiness behind.

He had failed to save his brother.

That's when Jessi turned her head and Sam followed her gaze. "Dean," he breathed in astonishment, because his brother's eyelids were flickering open, and the gashes that had once covered his face were now gone. Dean's chest rose, sunk, then rose again. As Sam came out of his initial shock he was able to put all the pieces together, realizing the power that Jessi held. She wasn't a freak. She was a miracle. She had saved Dean and had given Raef what he deserved. Sam couldn't help but grin, and as soon as he saw his brother lift his head he found he could do the same.

\\\

It was like basking in the sun, or sitting by a fire, or having sex. Okay, maybe not that last one, but the fact was, it was hot. That's how Dean felt as he floated in the emptiness. He remembered it being cold before; so cold he couldn't even move his body because it was so numb. Now it was as if he were melting. No, not him, but the emptiness. It was melting all around him.

It was as if he were floating atop an ocean of nothing, and as it slowly drained away he sunk down with it. He knew there was a bottom somewhere, and as he waited patiently he started to hear a constant pattering, like the sound of rain. The last thing he remembered was Raef staring into his eyes, and then a pain in his abdomen. That's when the rain had started to fall unnaturally fast and he had plunged into the ice cold ocean of nothing, his body becoming numb to the pain he had succumbed to earlier. He wondered where he was and how he had come to be afloat in this vast space when there was a sudden choking sound, but he couldn't find the source. The ocean was still draining away, and until it completely disappeared he could do nothing but wait.

After what seemed like an eternity, he finally reached something concrete; the bottom of the ocean. He was sitting against a solid object, and as the last portions of emptiness drained away, light pierced his vision. He realized that his eyelids were opening. Funny, he had thought they were open before…

When he was able to keep his eyes from closing shut again, his blurry vision focused and Dean was surprised at what he saw. The first thing he noticed was that he was still in the courtyard and it was still pouring. He realized that his body didn't hurt, and it wasn't numb either. The pain that had seemed to cover every inch of his being had somehow disappeared and he wondered if he had died and was now in some warped heaven. Or hell. Or maybe he had become a ghost, and if he stood up and looked down he'd see his pathetic, broken body slumped against the wall.

As he reached out a hand to ensure that it was corporeal, he noticed the two figures sprawled out before him. They were both dead. Raef was lying in a puddle, his blood turning the rainwater pink. Numerous injuries covered his body, and Dean wondered how he had received them. The woman he did not recognize, but he noticed that she was clutching his arm. Her touch was colder than the rain, and he wanted to shake her hand away, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to do it. As he raised his head, he noticed a third person. Sam was a few meters away, sitting on a pile of bricks, his eyes open and watchful. His brother blinked, and Dean felt relief flood his body. However, he couldn't remember Sam arriving, and before he had time to ask, he was distracted by a loud gasp as the dead woman suddenly sat up, her grip on his arm tightening to a painful level.

It was a few moments before she turned her head and met his eyes. Her red hair was a mess around her face and her skin was pale, but in her cheeks there was a tinge of pink. She was alive after all. "Hi," she said, a small smile twitching her lips.

"Hi," Dean replied, confusion leaving him with no other answer. "Maybe you can explain to me what the hell just happened."

\\\

Dean closed the trunk and then made his way to the front of the Impala. Sam and Jessi leaned against the hood, the two saying their farewells. As Dean joined them, Sam gave him an annoyed look. "Does anyone else find it weird that I was the only one who walked away from this physically injured?" He rubbed the back of his head where he had received seven stitches. Jessi laughed.

"Sorry Sammy, but life's just not fair, I guess." Dean pulled out a pair of keys from his pocket and jingled them. "Which is why we've gotta get back on the road."

Sam nodded, standing up and facing Jessi. "You sure you're going to be all right?"

She nodded as she glanced at the classy motel behind her. "Thanks to you, I don't have to worry about Raef anymore."

"I didn't have anything to do with that, Jessi. It was _you_ who finally ended his reign of terror." He smiled. "And it was you who saved my brother's life."

"Yah, thanks for that," Dean added as he opened the driver's door. He wouldn't meet her eyes, but she knew he meant it.

"Jessi," Sam called, but seemed to hesitate before he said, "Can I ask you something personal, and, well… maybe a little strange?"

"Strange?" Jessi smiled. "I doubt anything you'd ask would be considered strange to me."

"Your parents. Are they still alive?"

Jessi's brow furrowed. "My adoptive parents, no. My biological parents, I'm not too sure. I heard my mom died in some sort of accident, and my dad wasn't in the right mindset to raise me after that."

"Accident?" Sam shifted his weight. "Do you know what sort of accident?"

Jessi didn't know why this information was so important to Sam, but she answered anyway. "I think it had to do with a fire."

Sam glanced back at his brother who had been listening intently behind the Impala's open door. They shared a strange look, but then Sam faced her once more. He smiled, and although it would have fooled most people, Jessi had spent too much time surrounded by doctors, nurses, and pills to know what a fake smile looked like. However, she wouldn't question this. Something told her that Sam and Dean were more than they appeared to be. "Just promise me you guys won't let something like this happen again, all right?" she said, her plea spoken with honesty. "Take care of yourselves better."

Sam laughed but then took her hand. "Thanks again, Jessi," he said. He glanced down, something heavy clearly on his mind. "Think you can promise me something too?"

Jessi nodded her head, curious as to what kind of promise he would ask of her.

"Promise me… Promise me you'll live your life well. Promise me you won't let anything change you."

He looked so serious, almost as if he were pleading with her, that Jessi could do nothing but nod her head. "I promise."

With that, Sam let go of her hand and joined his brother in the car. As she stood back and watched them pull out of the parking lot she couldn't help but smile. Thanks to Sam and Dean she had a new lease on life. With Raef finally gone, she could start living again. His icy blue stare would never harm her again and could be left to the reliable fading of her memories.

However, her grin faltered as she remembered that lately those blue eyes had been replaced with those of a different hue. In her dreams she was haunted by the sickly colour yellow. She didn't know who the eyes belonged to or what they meant, but somehow they seemed more frightening than Raef's.

Immediately shaking the thought away, Jessi remembered her promise to Sam. She wouldn't let anything change her. She'd live her life well. As she watched the brothers drive away, she wondered if she'd ever see them again. Perhaps one day in the future, fate would intervene once more.

* * *

**The End.**


End file.
